My journey through life hasn't been easy. I have cried more times than I have laughed and every year as it comes seems to bring more challenges and reasons not to continue. As we speak I am a twenty nine (in 6 days) year old adult dependent with a near-nothing social life and no romantic partner. In present world speak I have failed. I am also in debt and I owe the government money that I don't have - It wasn't always this way.
There was actual hope in my future before puberty hit and it has been downhill from there - in present world speak I hit all those milestones early, walking, being literate, having friends...except maybe having a boyfriend. That one was difficult. In fact the ratio between my accepted romantic gestures and rejected ones have been 5 to 1 give or take. In friend groups I was always the underdog, the one grateful to be remembered. I think all that was because I was different in a way from my peers.
I was either too loud or too worded. I spoke like I came from the 1800s and my accent kept changing. What was charming as a child did not change and later became more and more off-putting as I grew older. Instead of blending in I stood out unless I was simply more quiet. And when I was more quiet I ate more to calm my nerves. Every six months I would re-invent myself thinking that there was something in me to fix. I would burn my diary entries and all the blogs because what felt right once was suddenly irreparably flawed, I mean what was I thinking being that way at all?
I was always that way, and I always will be until I die, standing out being different, is what I recently discovered. I never really changed.
Now is the quiet hour of my life. I have stopped pretending and so have my old friends, they all left. I want to die, it's true. The only reason I am not killing myself is how my family will grieve for me. Being their burden is better than offing my existence intentionally. I would leave them with more scandal than I have so far and now on top of grief surely, I cannot do that.
As I type this I hear my five year old nephew boss my two year old niece around and I am thinking, where is their mother, oh God - wait I can hear an adult, it's okay. I sigh as I continue to pour my melancholy onto this page. Sad it sounds? This my life, isn't it? Pathetic, I look, saying how I want to die and there is running water in the taps while people in Syria are still picking up the pieces of their lost homes and hopes and loves and dreams? I mean who will hear what I have to say and take it seriously when all I have done is leech onto the blood, sweat and tears of my loved ones? I don't know. I am so tired and I am so very alone. I want to die.
This entry will not end in hope. I want to die. I want to die. I need to let this out. I want to die. I am so very tired. I want to die.
